Just behind the pillar, the grey girl sat heavy.
The burden of her coat weighed down on top of her.
Like her life was upon her shoulders, revealing a crack in her otherwise dreamy exterior.
Maybe more will be revealed the longer I stare.
Now she clips her hair up, like she's painting over those cracks in the newly brought flat wall. Tying to forget how worn out she is.
Her flowing dark red hair now bundled in one.
Flushing hands pacing up and down her smooth face, the afternoon sun rising off as it passes by.
The grey top hangs low with compassion, it beautifully contrasts the bleakness of the day and the plain building we're inside.
Her dark bra strap shows the world her class and her body: beautiful, but naked, open, but reserved.
Now I must leave the grey girl alone. Staring out into the grassy exterior of the building we inhabit.
I feel we could meet again, maybe not this hour but maybe somewhere when the time is right.
I don't know her name, nor does she mine.
I don't know her life, nor does she mine.
But, I know she's the grey girl.
I know she's been left behind.
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Author:
A piece of luggage (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 9th, 2025 06:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
Seductive and yet unknown this poem speaks of desire and lack of familiarity of that grey area of love that is passion. Nicely written
I got the sense of the transformation of a person, stepping out from their shadow into a bright new world, enjoyed the read
BRAVO
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